


puppet lines drag you forward (along a trail a million times tread)

by Garecc, Gunpowderdtim (Garecc)



Series: Ready, Aim, Fire [1]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: (Jonny.), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gore, I mean im not talking talking, Its just plotless, Just me talking, Meta, Narratomancy, No Plot/Plotless, This is writing, i dont know what this is, kinda??, no relationships no characters, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Garecc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Gunpowderdtim
Summary: The narrative has it's stringsPuppet lines running through all that lives and all the breathes, tugging them into Stories, pulling them intoRoles.The universe collects stories, collects people, collects concepts and tropes. Collects tales and people and names and lives.The Mechanisms are made to watch, made to observe these tales. Made to tell them too, to sing and write and scream these stories to the stars and all that would ever want to listen.
Series: Ready, Aim, Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799860
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	puppet lines drag you forward (along a trail a million times tread)

**Author's Note:**

> this is the second fic I've written that is a musing on nothings

The narrative has it's strings

Puppet lines running through all that lives and all the breathes, tugging them into Stories, pulling them into **Roles**.

The universe collects stories, collects people, collects concepts and tropes. Collects tales and people and names and lives.

The Mechanisms are made to watch, made to observe these tales. Made to tell them too, to sing and write and scream these stories to the stars and all that would ever want to listen. Made to spread the seeds of new tales further, and made to watch them unfold.

While they were made to tell stories, that does not exempt them from their own narratives. Each has a story themself, a tale that they see echoed endlessly during their travels.

A son who kills his father, a princess who dies for her parent’s sins, a collector dying with their collection, an orphan falls into crime only to be betrayed by one they trust, an abandoned thing finds a home, a witch cast out to die, a revenge and grief driven soldier, a revolutionary who finds forbidden knowledge, scientist who succeeds where no one else has before.

Their own stories, their own lives echoed in a million variations around them, as they sail on through time.

They’re all their own tragedies, own stories, but this does not exempt them from stories they happen to stumble into...

Every fairy tale has a **Prince** , and during King Cole's war, that piece was missing.

Snow White, Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Belle and The Beast, slots filled, stories told.

But nowhere was there a **Prince.**

A key role.

**The Prince** was not a romantic role, not here, not now, there was a princess filling that place and the universe was happy.

After all, there are never enough **Princesses**.

But that does not eliminate the need for a **Prince** , and as the tale unfolds, one Jonny D’ville falls into the role.

The Mechanisms found themselves around where the Briar Rose was imprisoned, and The Briar Rose is in all but title a **Princess** , a sleeping beauty, and Jonny?

Well, Jonny woke her up.

Jonny knows a role when he feels one, and he was _not_ getting dragged into a major one.

Major roles never end well, especially when tragedy follows them like a moth to a flame.

He became the **Prince** of the story as he shot the machines, as the Red’s bullets ripped through him, the narrative dragging him forward as he caught her as she fell from the machine.

Walking and laughing in a body so full of bullets he should be dead ten times over.

And yet, he wasn't.

**Princes** save **Princesses** , that's just part of the goddamn story.

So Jonny carries her, walking on a leg with a shattered bone with a bullet in his head for the flare.

Drenched in his own gore, he looks at his sister like “What the fuck do you want me to do now, Nastya?” 

The narrative carries them forward, and Jonny is the **Prince**.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a city, a story we all know well, and in this city there were the **Olympians**.

I’m sure you can name a few.

Zeus, Hera, Athena, Poseidon; Names that weave through story after story, tale after tale.

Now in this city, every **Olympian** , has a name, a goal, a face.

Except, there is one missing.

**Hades**.

Zeus and Poseidon would scoff if you told them they had a brother, and if you got them drunk enough, add on that their father had more kids than just them, but they’ll never say who.

Now, it's not often they get to choose their own roles, but one Ashes O’Riley saw this planet, saw the missing lord of the dead, and stepped into play.

After all, what else do you need to be an **Olympian** but immortality?

Of course, the narrative sunk its teeth in deep, and our Ashes became **Hades** in more than just fun.

As Persephone wandered down and ate their fruit, pet their dog, the story pulled it's strings taught and **Hades** settled into the city as naturally as Zeus was king.

A story needs it's pieces just as a chessboard needs its pawns.

* * *

In a far away time, there is a space station long abandoned by its people, by its creators lacking a certain **Role**.

Brian finds himself in the role of **Merlin** , and cannot leave the story.

Trapped in the spaces between words, the beats between songs.

After all, he’s a main character.

He is **Merlin**.

And as the cards shuffle, in this story **Merlin** is part of Camelot, and once you gain a **Role** , you either die in it or shed it when the story ends.

**Merlin** is buried alive in most iterations of the story, of this tale, and **Merlin**?

Well, **Merlin** falls into the sun. Buried under his failure to save the station. 

* * *

Most of the stories in the universe are incomplete, a gaping hole where the story could peak, could lead, a **Role** unfilled, and while most stories would fizzle out, untold and unknown, many don't.

While the Mechanisms were made to watch, made to observe, to sing stories to the stars to all that would ever want to listen, they were also made to finish tales, and slot into the gaps.

If it wasn't for **The Prince,** Snow White would have been fighting a hopeless battle until her death caught up with her.

If **Hades** had not been on their throne, Heracles, Orpheus, Ariadne, and Ulyssys would never have made their way down to the **Underworld**.

If **Merlin** had never set foot in Camelot, Galahad would never have sat at **The Round Table** , **The G.R.A.I.L.** would never have been known.

They might have been made to tell the tales, to make the echoes stronger.

But they are also the Narratives Hand, the fingers of fate, and they carry stories on.

They are the notes before a crescendo, the tension before the climax, the lift up the narrative mountain.

Being part of a larger story doesn’t guarantee you safety, being a Storyteller doesn't end your own tale.

The only thing that truly ends your story is death, and echos of your tale will go on eternally.

A story is only as strong as who tells it after all.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @gunpowderdtim


End file.
